Only You
by Inked Heart
Summary: Draco and Hermione are faced with the challenge of being Head Boy and Girl, and sharing a common room under an uneasy truce. They can't stand each other, but then, oppposites attract, don't they? Dramione!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If I owned Hermione and Draco, they'd be together!**

**A/N ~ So this is my first fanfic! :D Sort of disregards the epilogue of DH, in that none of them are married and there are no kids! ;D Please review, and please be nice! **

"It's not gonna be that bad," Ron tried to assure Hermione as they ascended the small steps up to the platform 9 and three-quarters.

"I don't want to go back, not after so many people died!" Hermione's voice was choked with emotion that she'd been trying to bottle up.

McGonagall had decided that all the pupils from Hogwarts from last year should re-do their final years as if it were for the first time. Harry and Ron had been surprisingly happy to do so, and they were amazed at Hermione's reluctance.

"But you're like a walking, talking book!" Ron had said, earning himself a smack on the shoulder.

"You're head girl, you're gonna get the nicest dorm in the whole building!" Ron brought her back to the current as he gently pushed her through the pillar (read as: secret entrance). "And you only have to share it with one person. How bad can it be?"

Hermione just shook her head, peering over all the little first-years, trying to spot Harry. She'd had a growth spurt over the time they'd been away, causing her to tower over nearly everyone, including Ron, which he particularly hated.

Unfortunately, one other person seemed to have grown too.

"Mudblood," Draco Malfoy spat down at her as he passed, devoid of his usual cronies. Crabbe was long dead, and Goyle's parents had refused to send him back after what had happened. Hermione's lips pursed, but she let him pass freely. Her eyes followed his back though, as he weaved through the crowd easily, shoving anyone smaller or younger than him flying. What was behind all of that roughness? Nothing, was the answer. Draco Malfoy was like a robot: emotionless.

"Hermione?" Ron waved a hand in front of her face. She jumped, and glared at him. Then, before she could tell him she did possess the use of her eyes, a certain black-haired boy came into view, holding hands with a girl with long, ginger hair.

"Harry!" she cried, running over to him. Ron groaned, it'd only been a week since they'd seen them. Hermione flew into Harry's arms before letting him go quickly and grabbing Ginny.

"How was your holiday?" Harry and Ginny had gone to Hawaii with Bill and Percy, to get away for a while. Ron, to Hermione's dismay, had opted out, and ordered that she did to. Ginny grinned at her.

"Awesome," she slid a sideways peek at Harry, who was looking at her as if the world revolved around her, "I kicked Harry's butt at Quidditch!" Harry gasped.

"It was three on one!" He argued. Ginny smirked.

"Yeah, you Bill and Percy against me!" They started arguing, but their laughs were obvious. Hermione smiled, then looked at Ron. His expression was sullen and his arms were crossed moodily.

"Ron? What's wrong?" His frown deepened, and he glanced at Harry, ignoring her. Realisation dawned on Hermione.

"Honestly, Ronald, one hug does not constitute a love affair." Ron scowled heavily, still refusing to talk to her.

Hermione was beginning to get just a little bit sick of him. She'd _wanted _to go to Hawaii just as much as the next person, but no. Ron's happiness was just _so _much more important to him than hers. And now he repaid her with getting jealous over a single hug? She was almost glad she wouldn't have to share a carriage with him and Harry on the way there.

She sighed, realising he wasn't going to answer her for a long time, and strolled off to talk to Luna. She had her back to Hermione as she walked up, watching someone disdainfully. When Hermione neared her, she saw it was Draco, sucking a girl's face off with more force than a hoover.

"That's hardly hygenic," Hermione commented. Luna turned to her, a dreamy smile on her face.

"Not with all the nargals around..." Hermione gave up trying to understand. "Do you think we should warn them?"

"That's okay," Hermione said quickly, mildly disgusted at the thought of even trying to pull the two apart. "Look, the train's here anyway. I have to meet Madame Pomfrey to show me to a compartment..." She trailed off, talking more to herself now.

"Oh, is she running the cart this year?" Hermione nodded, but that wasn't what she'd meant. Madame Pomfrey would lead her to the compartment where the Head Boy and Girl sat and got to know each other: after all, they would be sharing a common room together for the next year.

"I have to go," Hermione said, her eyes on Ron, Harry and Ginny, "But I'll see you at the Great Feast?" Luna nodded, her head in the clouds as always.

"Harry, Ginny! Wait!" Hermione ran after them, her hair a rippling brown ribbon behind her. Ron's eyes tightened: another mark against her because she hadn't called _his _name.

"Common," Ginny was literally hanging off the train, one hand gripping the side of the door.

"Sorry," Hermione panted as she jumped on. She accompanied them down the narrow walkway between the compartments either side of them, feeling a small ache as she realised that this would be the first time she wouldn't be sat with either Ron or Harry, or both of them. It'd be a much longer journey without them, unless by some miracle the Head Boy was... well, non-existant.

"We'll see you later," Harry promised. Ginny nodded to second this, smiling.

"Bye, Ron," said Hermione in a small voice, trying to not to look at him too intensely. Ron merely grunted, and Hermione felt another spark of anger within her. She didn't show it though, just gave a little wave as she marched back down the corridor. Walking quickly, she imagined Ron's face under her foot with every stamp.

By the time she found Madame Pomfrey, she was smiling, not caring that her hair had found it's way out of all the complicated clips and bands required to keep it out of her eyes.

"Ah, Hermione dear," Madame Pomfrey drew her in for a hug, smelling of soap and other matronly things. "I trust your holiday was nice and safe?" She didn't wait for an answer, turning round to lead the way. "Now, you'll have lots of responsibilities as Head Girl, but I'm sure you'll be able to handle them. I do believe your partner has already found his way without my assistance..." There was a note of disapproval in her voice, and Hermione's heart sank, just a little. It wasn't someone like Neville, then. Scatterbrained, but with their heart in the right place. "Try not to rip each other limb from limb, please."

She stopped besides a compartment which had the curtains closed, shielding it from prying eyes, and motioned for Hermione to open the door. She did so, curiosity and caution clouding her eyes.

"Oh, no," was her immediate reaction when she saw the blond boy sprawled across two seats. He looked up at her, mirroring her disgust.

"Why would anyone choose a _mudblood?_" He muttered, perfectly audibly. Hermione scowled at him.

"Why would anyone choose an egotistical, self-centred jerk who thinks the sun shines out of his ass?" Draco's features rearranged themselves into a snide smile.

"Touché, Mudblood, touché." Hermione just shook her head and curled into a ball, looking out of the window.

Of all the people at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy? Why would McGonagall even think of it? Was this some sort of sick joke?

They rode in silence for a good half hour, neither of them changing positions. Draco glanced at Hermione, to check she was asleep, before pulling out a black book from his bag. He found himself slightly distracted though, by the sleeping girl. She looked almost pretty, drenched in the sunlight pouring through the window, illuminating her slender form. Her hair was obscuring her face, just slightly, and was strangely tousled and disarranged for Granger, who was normally neat as a pin. She also looked strangely vulnerable, almost childlike in her slumbering innocence.

Draco shook his head, ridding himself of all thoughts of the _mudblood. _What had he been thinking? It was all this sunlight: it was getting to his head, making him delirious. He turned back to his book, ignoring Granger as best he could. Twilight. He'd had it thrust upon him by an old girlfriend who he didn't remember the name of, and must have packed it by accident instead of the horror he was currently reading.

He read the blurb, and grimaced a little. Oh, what the hell. There was nothing else to do, and it wasn't like anyone would ever know, was it? He opened the first page, and started reading cynically, feeling victorious at any mistake he found. Reading it for educational purposes only, that's what he was doing.

_Snap! _

Draco looked up, startled, and saw Granger holding a camera in her hands, a muggle one. Ugh, he despised anything muggle. But the thing that was bothering him now was the grin smeared across her face.

"Twilight." She remarked, "Oh, it will be interesting to see everyone's reaction, will it not?" Draco swore under his breath, how long had she been awake?

"Give it to me now Granger, and there'll be no damage done," he threatened, towering over her.

Hermione giggled in a completely un-Hermione like fashion. This was the most fun she'd had since... well, since she'd been with Harry and Ginny at the Burrow, just hanging out. The week alone with Ron had been... not the best time she'd ever had. But this? Seeing Malfoy so stressed out on a _picture? _Priceless.

"Give it to me!" He repeated, leaning over to grab the camera from her hands. She moved it out of his reach, her grin widening. If that was possible. There was no way he'd touch her, a mudblood he couldn't stand, to get it. He hesitated, then roughly took her arm with one hand, pulling it towards him, and snatched the camera from her with the other. The movement jolted Hermione towards him, and she found herself pressed against his chest, his hand clasping her wrist. He didn't release her, fiddling with the camera and pressing various buttons before returning it to her smugly, obviously quite pleased with himself. Then he realised their situation, and blushed. Draco Malfoy _blushed. _Not that Hermione could really talk, her cheeks were a deep, raging red.

"Sorry," he said gruffly, returning to his seat and picking up his book. Hermione sank down in her own seat, her eyes on him.

"You know," she mused, "I think that's the first time you've ever apologised to me, Malfoy." He looked up, a small smile on his lips that, for the first time, wasn't even particularly sarcastic.

"Don't get used to it, Granger." Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling.

"Well, we are going to be living together," she said slowly, trying to think this through fully, "Maybe... we could have a truce?" Malfoy raised one eyebrow cynically. "I don't have the energy to fight with you constantly, Malfoy, and we do have a job. We could... _try _to get along, at least."

Well, this was an interesting development, Draco thought.

"We could." He said shortly, wanting to return to his book. For no reason other than educational ones, he reminded himself.

"Come on, Malfoy, I hate you as much as I hate you, but I think we just proved we can get along when we try, right?" Draco's eyes widened incredulously.

"You call that getting along?" She blushed. She was finding this whole conversation uncomfortable, he could tell.

"Well... it's better than normal, at least." She concluded factually. "So... truce?"

He weighed up the options. She was a mudblood, and there was no reason for him to even associate himself with her. But if he and Potter could treat each other cordially, then why not try it with her? It could be interesting.

"Temporarily," he finally said, enjoying the smile she flashed at the one word.

She left him in peace after that, drifting back to sleep. This time the silence was easier, less tense and forced. Draco found himself relaxing more than he had before, leaving the room as quietly as he could to change into his robes, making sure he didn't wake her. She was already dressed in her own long robes, so he didn't shake her awake until the train pulled to a stop, screeching horribly, but not quite loudly enough to wake Granger.

"Oi, Granger," he shook her gingerly, not wanting to touch her too much, "Wake up already. We're here."

**A/N: So um you like? :D Let me know! --Hayley xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I _wish _I was awesome enough to be J. K. Rowling.**

**A/N ~ Thank you all for the responses to the first chapter! ~hugs~ You guys are awesome! This is dedicated to all the people who reviewed: SealedWithaKiss, Paramoll, XxKilcatxX and Deevee White. :)**

It was colder outside than normal, and Hermione shivered slightly as she and Malfoy walked side-by-side to the carriages lined up, pulled by invisible forces that were really Thestrals. Malfoy glanced at her, smirking slightly as he pulled his fur-lined cape closer about him. Scowling, Hermione walked just a little quicker: just because he was too rich for his own good and could afford anything didn't mean he could show off at any opportunity.

"Watch it, kid," Malfoy snarled at a first-year, who made a scared little grunt and scurried off.

"Leave him alone!" Hermione ordered, "You're Head Boy, you can't just go around bullying kids." Malfoy shrugged.

"I don't bully," he retorted, pushing the small of her back slightly to start her walking again, "I show them their place in life."

"By making them feel like vermin?" Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Well," Malfoy said smugly, "They are vermin."

Hermione gasped slightly, feeling anger surge in her stomach, and stormed ahead of him, her eyes searching among the long line of carriages for the one at the very end, the one reserved for Head Boy and Head Girl.

"Granger." His voice held a note of amusement, and Hermione swung round, ready to connect her fist with his face if need be. But he was smiling, and for some reason, her guard dropped completely. "We have a truce. Put up with me, and I'll put up with you." She didn't know whether to be offended or touched, so she just left it, nodding slightly.

They reached the carriage a few minutes later, walking companionably again. A few eyebrows had been raised at their 'friendship', but no one dared say anything, in fear of Malfoy's wrath. Hermione gauged the distance between the ground and the first step, and prepared to jump. Malfoy's smooth hands found their way into her armpits, and he lifted her painlessly up into the carriage, completely surprising Hermione.

She was cute when she was surprised, Draco thought amusedly, what with her rosebud lips in a little 'O' shape, and her milk chocolate eyes wide as saucers.

...What the hell? He didn't think _Hermione Granger _was cute. Ever.

"Thanks," she murmured quietly, turning away slightly so half her face was shrouded in shadow. Draco bounded up beside her easily, sitting beside her on the plush seat. Their eyes met for a second; Hermione glanced away, embarrassed.

"So," he drawled once they were moving, "What are the perks for this responsibility business?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. Ah, there was the smart ass he knew and hated.

"It's in the handbook, Malfoy," the way she said his name like an insult was almost endearing, and definitely amusing, "But then, you're too busy reading romance novels targeted at teenage girls to bother with learning about your job, aren't you?"

She was teasing him.

About Twilight.

Again.

"I'm reading it purely for educational reasons," Draco protested, trying not to enjoy the smile on her rosy face too much. He was surprised by how whiny his voice sounded to his own ears.

"Of course," Granger soothed him mockingly, a wicked smile dancing on her lips, "So how are you finding it? From a purely educational point of view, of course."

As expected, she was twisting his words in her clever way.

"I think that Bella's a whiny b-" A slim hand was thrown over his mouth. He jolted a little, struck by utter surprise.

Hermione was just as shocked at her own behaviour as he was. Her cheeks flooded, and she meekly removed her hand from where she'd smushed it into Malfoy's face.

"What the hell?" Malfoy was looking at her, almost disgusted.

"Sorry," she muttered, studying the floor of the carriage diligently.

"Watch it, Granger." Malfoy murmured under his breath. She glanced over at him, and, if she hadn't known him, she would've said there was a slight tugging up at the corners of his mouth, like a smile he was trying to suppress. She slumped back into her seat, her cheeks as red as tomatoes for reasons she couldn't fathom.

Their journey was as smooth as it could be, and their goodbyes were quick and brief as they rejoined their respective group of friends.

Hermione watched as the first-years were sorted for the second time in their lives, clapping joyously as each of them stumbled off to their new house, and cheering with the other Gryffindors when they welcomed a new member. Her eyes, though, travelled to the Slytherin table, unwillingly picking out a certain blond-haired, blue eyed boy who met her eyes instantly, as if he'd just been waiting for her to look over. He bowed his head sarcastically, his mouth pulled into a smile that, shock, horror, looked genuine. Embarrassed, Hermione shovelled forkfuls of chicken into her mouth vigorously.

"Poor you," Ginny managed between mouthfuls, her eyes flickering between Hermione and Malfoy. Hermione looked surprised, before masking it calmly, realising that their truce probably wouldn't go down particularly well with Ginny, or even Harry.

"What's he like, then? Any different?" Harry ventured, ignoring Ginny's disbelieving snort.

"No," Hermione decided she should make it convincing, and well, it was technically true, "Malfoy's still a self-centred, egotistical, pure-blooded maniac jerk, if that's what you meant." Harry laughed, but Ginny was scrutinising Hermione, before joining Harry in laughter. Their conversation descended into banter and jokes, reaching out to include Luna and Neville.

Hermione didn't even notice an absence, one that was weighing heavily on Harry's heart judging by the sharp looks he kept sending at the ginger-haired boy sat very close to a brunette girl. Ron and Lavender. A little stab of pain jabbed Hermione's heart as a casket of anger exploded within her.

If Professor McGonagall hadn't strode up to her at that exact moment, she would've gone straight over to Ron and smashed his face in. But she did, flanked by Draco Malfoy, whose eyes skimmed over Harry, Ginny (who was glaring daggers at him), Luna and Neville to rest on her, strangely intent. Hermione felt herself blush under his gaze, and turned to McGonagall quickly.

"Miss Granger, if you'd please follow me." Sending an apologetic look to Harry and Ginny, Hermione ran after McGonagall who was already marching away down the hall. She stopped beside Malfoy, who nodded curtly.

He let his gaze rake over her discreetly, when her eyes were fixed on McGonagall's swiftly moving form: her corkscrew curls were flying everywhere, all attempts at taming them into their various grips abandoned; her cheeks were the colour of delicate pink roses, a gentle flush against her light, china skin, and her eyes were blazing with emotion... anger? At Weasel, for being such a bastard to her? He'd have to ask her. Not that he cared about a mudblood.

"_E__remita e draconiano,"_ McGonagall chanted to a beautiful woman weeping on her knees beside a lake which they'd stopped beside. Draco watched as Hermione's eyes glazed over, lost in the timeless beauty of the painting. "Mr Malfoy? If you'd like to proceed, please." Draco jumped and, ignoring the heat he felt in his cheeks, nodded. He extended one hand to help Hermione through, which she took, blushing sweetly.

Inside, there were two armchairs, one red and one green, and a sofa that was also ruby red. The carpet was emerald, and the walls fiery red. There was a table with chairs set around it strategically, all made of elegant silver. Normally, the common rooms were lit by candle. This one, however, had swirling little balls of light darting about the place, casting just enough light for the room to be illuminated. At the far end, there were two sets of black ivory staircases, entwining together in the middle to lead to two doors, one that was red, and the other green.

It didn't take a genius to tell that the room had been coloured to please both a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. Draco and Hermione exchanged a smirk, both apparently pleased. Professor McGonagall regarded them both gravely.

"This is one of many perks," she stated, "I expect that you will not abuse this room, as it has been especially prepared for the two of you personally. You receive the use of a private common room in return for your unfailing exemplary behaviour, rewarding and punishing of younger students. I trust that you are both well aware of your duties?" The pair nodded. "I expected nothing less. There may be challenges thrust upon you... but I know that if you work together, you shall thrive." Bemused, the two looked at each other, then back at McGonagall, who was smiling as if she was enjoying her own private joke.

She drilled them quickly on the cleaning rota of the room, and instructed them in the use of the lights. With one last, lingering look at them, she was gone, the portrait swinging shut behind her soundlessly.

"Good riddance," Draco drawled, and Hermione couldn't disagree.

"I'm going to see my room," she told him, starting towards the staircases.

"I'll join you, then," he followed her, and they moved up the opposite staircases in unison. Every time they met eyes, Hermione felt a little shock run through her, something she remembered feeling with Ron so, so long ago.

Their eyes locked as they each rested a hand on the knob of their respective doors, and the pause before they each turned it was long. It felt like minutes, but could only have been seconds until Hermione finally opened the scarlet door, revealing something Hermione had only dreamed of until then.

The bed itself was nothing spectacular, a simple double bed that took up around half of the room. It was definitely the biggest bed Hermione had ever had the excitement to own, a simple luxury that McGonagall must've known she'd appreciate. There was a classy dark wood desk in the other half of the room, next to a bookcase stuffed with thick books and classic novels.

What Hermione found her eyes immediately drawn to, though, was a huge patio door that gave her a spectacular view of the night sky. Upon closer inspection, she saw that it slid open, revealing a balcony, just like the one Hermione had always imagined in Romeo and Juliet.

Draco stepped out of his own door at the same time, and their gazes locked on each other. Surrounded by the ebony black sky flocked with tiny bullet-holes of light, stars, Hermione couldn't help but imagine the famous Shakespearean balcony scene.

But... surely, it was with the wrong person, right?

**A/N ~ So? Let me know what you think! And if anyone can guess what language the password for Hermione and Draco's room is is officially awesome and gets a shout out ;) Hint: it's just Hermione and Draco in a different language. **

**Like? Dislike? Please review!**

**--Hayley xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I'm just a teenage girl playing in J. K. R's sandbox :) **

**A/N ~ You reviewers are amazing! ~hugs~ Shout out to paramoll for guessing the right language :D It was Italian. Enjoy the next chapter! **

"It's really beautiful," Hermione was telling Ginny on the way to her next class, Potions. Ginny's Transfiguration class with McGonagall was right next to Slughorn's Potion classroom now they didn't have to go down to the dungeons, so they often walked together. Harry was strolling along with them, his fingers linked with Ginny's. Sulking behind them, Ron was their annoying shadow: they hadn't spoken since his impromptu dinner with Lavender, the human leech.

"You're so lucky," Ginny sighed, imagining a balcony just for herself.

"I know," Hermione nodded, "Every time I go out there, I almost feel like Juliet..."

"There are no balconies at Hogwarts." Ron finally interjected in a dark monotone. Hermione's fists clenched, but Ginny took care of it. She turned round, a death glare playing in her eyes.

"Excuse me, Ronald," she deadpanned, "When we want your opinion, we'll ask for it." She turned back to Hermione, rolling her eyes a little. Ron looked at Harry in disbelief, but he just shrugged.

"You kind of asked for it," he explained, squeezing Ginny's hand. The couple smiled at each other, their eyes blazing with warm love. Hermione sighed: why couldn't her relationship with Ron be like that? There was a valley between them that just seemed to be growing recently, and she didn't know how to fix it.

"Welcome class!" Slughorn boomed, a bright smile painted effortlessly on his face. Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, and Hermione resisted the urge to burst out laughing. "Well... we seem to be missing a few pupils, do we not? Has anyone seen... well... all the Slytherins?"

Hermione frowned: her and Malfoy had both retreated quickly into their rooms last night, after a sarcastic comment or twenty from Malfoy, typically, and she hadn't seen him since. She'd assumed he was still sleeping when she'd left their common room this morning. As for the rest of the Slytherins...

"It's not like we're gonna miss 'em, sir," Seamus Finnigan pointed out, prompting a few murmurs of agreement from the rest of the room.

"Start without them," Parvati Patil added, filing her nails with intense concentration.

"Too late." Malfoy lounged on the side of the entryway, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

"Draco, m'boy! Good to see you, good to see you," Slughorn enthused, clapping his hands as the Slytherins filed in, one by one: Draco, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle... the line seemed to be endless, much to the Gryffindor's disappointment. "Oh, hello, hello! Do sit down..." Slughorn seemed almost beside himself with pleasure. The Slytherins silently sank down on chairs on the opposite side of the room from the Gryffindors until only Draco was left standing.

"There's no where to sit, Sir." He drawled out. Hermione and Harry both frowned, their eyes not on Draco, but on the empty seat at Hermione's side; Ron's old seat. He was with Lavender now, strangely enough.

"Is that an empty seat there?" Slughorn seemed confused too.

"I wasn't aware this was a philosophy class, Sir," Malfoy smirked, and Hermione snorted loudly. A little too loudly: she blushed as everyone turned to look at her weirdly. It had been a muggle joke, seeing as philosophy classes are famous for the 'is this _really _a chair?' line. Hermione found them fascinating, even if her natural, know-it-all instincts told her to say 'Uh, duh?' very sarcastically.

"Thank you Granger," Slughorn looked at her pointedly, and she realised she'd been giggling nervously for the last few seconds. "Malfoy, m'boy, sit down, please."

Draco smirked again. Slughorn was begging now, a sure sign he'd won. Why not have some fun?

"I'm not sitting next to the horse slash Mudblood," he protested, enjoying the outraged expression that became imminent on Hermione's face. "Like, ever. I don't want her germs!" The gang tittered, someone even clapping.

"Can it, Malfoy," Potter warned, his face dark.

"Ooh, protecting your love affair Potter?" This was the most fun he'd had in weeks! His and Potter's stupid truce had been getting on his nerves forever. Pothead was turning red now, his eyes blazing.

"No," he tried, but it came out wrong, almost a stutter.

"Very convincing." Who said sarcasm was the lowest form of comedy? Bullshit. "No, really, who'd want a _Mudblood _for a girlfriend anyway?"

"Draco!" Slughorn finally intervened, but the damage was already done. Inside, Hermione felt like breaking down and crying; on the outside, she put her feet up and leaned back, arms behind her head in a completely un-Hermione-like fashion.

"I'm not bothered in the slightest, Professor," she smiled, ignoring the raised eyebrows around her, "Let him sit on the floor, _some _of us actually came here to learn." Malfoy turned to look at her, a horribly sarcastic smile smeared across his face. Her eyes blazed as they met his, hiding unshed tears, showing only indifference with just a spark of irritation.

"If it pleases you, Miss Granger." He pretended to give a little bow, mocking her clipped tone, then sat down on the floor, legs crossed and his head resting in the palms of his hand. Each move was painfully sarcastic, done with the perfect amount of smirking and frowning to make them funny to his posse. The green side of the room guffawed, Pansy even breaking into applause. Slughorn just stood there, bemused.

"Well, Draco," he stumbled over his words, thrown off even more by the cynical smile on Malfoy's face, "I don't really think--"

"There's nowhere else to sit," Harry threw in, no doubt enjoying the view of Malfoy sprawled across the floor like vermin.

"One time," Slughorn finally gave in, "Just once."

The Slytherins jeered and cheered, as if the fact that their King was sat on the floor was a good thing and not totally humiliating. Parvati snapped a picture using a camera she'd gotten for her internship with the Daily Prophet (they'd heard of nothing but from her for the past few weeks), grinning.

"I am so putting this on the dunce page."

"There's a dunce page?" Harry asked.

"There's gonna be."

Hermione laughed along with them, trying to smile happily, but really? She was hurt. The words buzzed in her head like an angry bee she couldn't swat away: _who'd want a _Mudblood _for a girlfriend? _Mudblood, Mudblood, Mudblood. She turned the word over and over again in her head, hoping that if she said it enough times, it'd lose it's meaning. Maybe what Malfoy said was true. Maybe Ron was the only one who'd take her as she was, and maybe she was treating him wrong.

She pushed the thought away: that was not the Hermione Granger way of thinking. Think Positive was going to be her new motto. She got to work with Harry, taking the coyote tails away and showing him to chop them properly, trying to ignore the nagging feeling at the back of her head.

Why did it hurt more knowing that Malfoy had said it?

The night in the common room was strained, both of them sitting in their own rooms to do their homework. Hermione missed the warm companionship she used to feel with everyone back in the Gryffindor common room, feeling like she truly belonged there. Here, she just felt cold, and alone. The work was tiring and boring, essays she felt like she'd written a million times before. And this time she didn't even have the annoying but funny distraction of Harry or Ron trying to peer over her shoulder to copy her work until she agreed to write it for them. It was so quiet.

She sighed, dotting the last sentence on her Charms essay for Flitwick, signing her name with a flourish at the bottom. _Hermione Granger, Gryffindor. _Then she stood up, stretching her arms above her head. It wasn't too late, just enough to be dark outside. The stars were covered by moody clouds, and she shivered as she pushed the door leading to her balcony outside.

Taking a step further out, she quickly retreated into the far corner so Malfoy wouldn't see her, but she could see him. Like her, he was sat at his desk, scribbling on parchment. Unlike her, though, he was stabbing the paper furiously as he engraved words into it, ink blotting out words he'd just written before, and angering him even more.

Eventually, he threw his quill down on the desk with a clatter, and before Hermione had time to re-enter her own room, he'd slid the door open and stepped out. He stared into the sky for a second, his face dark, but strangely vulnerable. For once it was clear of a mocking smile, or a hateful frown, or _that _smirk. Draco's Smirk of Sarcasm ©. He just stood there, his hair blowing back gently in the wind. Hermione hardly dared breathe, let alone move. She just had the strange urge to sketch him, just like that, even though she couldn't draw a plausible stick man, let alone a proper portrait. Then he saw her. His face twisted into a scowl.

"Get lost, Mudblood." Hermione's eyes hardened. "Got a crush or something? Take a picture, it'll last longer." Hermione gasped, outraged at his flippant words: as if she'd have a crush on him.

"As if I'd have a crush on someone like you, Malfoy." He smirked, looking out at the sky again, his eyes tracing the outlines of the impending storm clouds.

"Many a girl more powerful than you have fallen victim to my charms, Mudblood."

She snorted again. She'd been doing that a lot lately, he noted. She never used to. She used to be the picture of elegance. Even the way she slapped Weasel was ladylike.

Not that he'd noticed, or anything.

But still.

She snorted a lot recently. Well, in the last day. Hermione's Horse Snort ©. He smirked at his own wittiness, thinking about how he'd have to share it with Blaise someday. He flicked his gaze towards her again, and jumped when he found her standing right under his nose. He resisted the urge to laugh; she was quite tall, for a girl, but because he was quite tall for a boy, he still towered over her. He knew what she'd say if she could hear his thoughts. Sexist pig.

Still, she thrust her heart-shaped face into his, almost on her tip-toes to reach him. Her curls were streaming out behind her in the wind. If they were a couple, this would be a true Kodak moment.

But he'd never think of her like that. Ever. This was Hermione Granger, for crying out loud.

"You know, Malfoy," she almost whispered, her voice low, trying to be menacing. Or... captivating? "You amuse yourself all you like with your assorted sluts, but if you just opened your eyes for one moment, you'd see that there are a million decent girls out there that'd rather stick needles in their eyes than go out with you."

Then she was gone, her door sliding shut behind her. A moment later, lion-embossed curtains flitted across it, obscuring his view. He stayed there for a moment, just thinking.

Then he went to his own bed, stripping to his boxers and pulling the sheets up about him. But all he could think about was the Mudblood. Hermione. _'I have a name,' _he could imagine her telling him in that tone she had. What had she meant, assorted collection of sluts? Astoria Greengrass, his current conquest, was no slut. She was beautiful, and her family were well-known in the ministry. Sure, she had a lot of boyfriends, but did that make her a slut? Well... Ugh. None of this even mattered. But she'd rather stick needles in her eyes than go out with him?

Hm. His competitive side was surfacing, chanting _challenge challenge challenge _incessantly in his head. He tried to sleep, but it wouldn't cease. He groaned, then gave in.

He'd prove to Hermione Granger that anyone would go out with him. Anyone. Including her. Hell, especially her. Then he'd dump her, and go back to being Draco Malfoy again, the boy who sat on the floor in lesson just to prove a point.

Hermione Granger was going to fall in love with him.

**A/N ~ Is it weird to say I loved that? When it's my own writing? ;D Hehe, please let me know what you think, sorry it's a little late, exams are getting all in my face, but I'm still here ;) **

**Reviews make me update that much faster... **

**--Hayley xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I just enjoy living in the amazing world J. K. R. creates :) **

**A/N ~ You guys make me enjoy writing! We even broke the 3 reviews a chapter habit – we got 4! :D Each review you guys submit makes my day just that much brighter – thank you all so much, this one goes out again to all you reviewers, alerters and favouriters! 3.**

"Blaise. Goyle. Girls." Malfoy sat down at his normal place, between Pansy and Astoria with Blaise, Goyle and Nicky, the daughter of one his mother's close work friends, opposite. His attention, however, was on the curly-haired girl laughing too loudly over at the Gryffindor table. Hermione'd rushed out this morning before he'd had time to so much lift his head up from his pillow and wrench his sleep-glued eyes open.

"Who you lookin' at?" Blaise asked sullenly, stabbing his bacon with his fork vigorously. Malfoy hardly noticed, rolling his eyes as Hermione gave Hermione's Horse Snort ©, and earned a slightly scared look from that other Weasel girl sat with her.

"Hm? None of your business." he replied sharply when he noticed the other boy watching him. He shovelled a sausage in his mouth to prevent further questioning. Astoria wrapped her arms around his neck.

"We've got a free period first..." she pressed herself against him suggestively, contorting herself quite impressively. Tempting as he found her not-so-subtle hints...

"I have plans," he told her coldly, watching her face fall dispassionately.

"Oh... Um, okay." She stood up suddenly, almost knocking her plate off her table. "Pansy, Nicky, coming? I want to freshen up before Viktor gets here... Bye."

Draco nodded, barely paying attention: Astoria having several boyfriends at a time wasn't new to him. In fact, it was a surprise when he was the only one, but that had only ever been once, and for an hour. Besides, it wasn't like he didn't have his own friends... with benefits.

Although, Jenna had texted him last night, and, whereas he'd normally jump at the opportunity, he'd declined as impolitely as he was famous for. His mind was too full of that... _girl _to even attempt a night with somebody else.

"What world are you living in?" Blaise was strangely bold today with all these questions. Goyle was silent as ever, the Human Food Annihilator. Draco gave him his second best scowl, the one he reserved for when someone was interrupting his mind just enough to be worthy of his fleeting attention. His number one scowl, the one he liked to practice in the mirror just because it made him feel scary, was only ever flashed when someone was being _particularly _annoying, and normally they pushed off to go knit, or whatever they did in their spare time when they received it. Which, of course, was the goal.

"A world you can't even dream of with your limited imagination," he eventually replied, before standing up carefully, making sure the little package he was holding in his hand was full obscured by his cloak. "I'm going to... enjoy myself."

He didn't let himself ponder what the boys would make of that, smirking and striding off before Blaise could comment in his annoyingly confident mood. They wouldn't, though, guess where he was _really _going.

It smelled... like books. Eurgh, why would anyone in their right mind go to the library in their free period? He'd been acting weird all morning, even for him, as Hermione would put it. He pulled his cloak around him self-conciously: if anyone saw him here, he'd be forced to hex them into next week. And he was far too tired for that, after such a sleepless night. Surreptitiously, he scurried as swiftly and quietly as he could to the far corner of the room, where he was sure no one would see him. There was a small desk pushed right up against the wall with bookcases surrounding it, so he decided that it would do.

It was plastered in various graffitti, hearts and that sort of shit. One statement caught his eye though: _Property of H.G., stay away! _So this was her recluse. Well, her old recluse it seemed, seeing how she'd taken over 'their' balcony. Funny. He'd never pegged her as the type to go around denouncing property.

He drew his attention back to his secret fetish; he pulled his hands out from within his cloak, along with the black novel he'd taken to secreting around constantly. Twilight.

It was purely for educational reasons, though, of course. Now, instead of just cynically dissecting the writing, he was going to search it for ideas on how to sweep a particular girl off her feet. Hermione seemed like the, uh, romantic type... not that he'd know.

It wasn't like he was reading it because he wanted to.

Of course not.

It was like slow torture.

Right.

"I got your runaway smile in my piggy-bank baby, gonna cash it right in for a new Mercedes, you were worth the hundred thousand miles..." Hermione sang her heart out as she rubbed shampoo through her horrible curls, resisting the urge to dance along to her tuneless voice. It'd been a long day, especially seeing as Harry was off competing at another school in the Quidditch Nationals. Ron'd gone with him, of course, but with his current attitude, it hardly made a difference. The water was nice, warm, but not too hot. Iy felt it was cleansing her, washing all her troubles away.

And, who doesn't sing in the shower?

She was working her way up to an _amazing _chorus of Misery Business by Paramore (rock music was her extremely secret passion, not that anyone ever knew what she was singing anyway. One, no one ever heard her, and two, they were muggle bands) when she heard someone shouting.

"I didn't know you liked rock, Granger. And I'm not talking about the hard substance people like to throw at Weasel's head." Hermione gave one of those snorts that'd been plaguing her recently. Completely against her will, of course, because it was _not _funny in the slightest. Plus, she was still mad at Malfoy for everything he'd said before. One not-funny-at-all comment wasn't going to fix all the insults he'd thrown at her without a second thought. So she ignored him, and continued on with her Paramore tribute.

She was just humming the opening riff to Ignorance when Malfoy interrupted her.

"Granger, much as you wish, the shower is not a stage, and the sound of the toilet flushing is not a clapping audience begging for more. Hurry up, I need to pee."

Hermione shook her head, trying not to smile and failing. She burst into Go Away by Delain, hoping Draco would get the message.

"Oh, ha ha Granger, I'm just about dying of laughter. How childish?" Hermione giggled. She didn't feel like herself, almost like she was high off the hot steam wrapping it's warm, wet fingers around her in the small enclosed space.

After a few more minutes, just to torture him that much more, she emerged from the en suite bathroom, wrapped in her soft dressing gown with her lavender pyjamas underneath. Her hair hung in sodden rat-tails around her face; her brown eyes looked huge without the curls obscuring them as usual.

Draco just stared at her for a moment, taking it all in. She looked strangely... beautiful. Not fit, like he was always calling Astoria, or Nicky or someone, but... beautiful.

Then he remembered his plan.

He gazed at her as intently as he could, trying to make his eyes smoulder.

Yes, he was going for the dazzling technique. What else? If a hundred year-old pervert vampire could manage it, why shouldn't he be able to? Hermione stared back for a moment, her eyebrows twisting in confusion. Then she looked a little alarmed.

"Are you okay?" She moved very quickly away from the bathroom door, as if to clear the way. "I didn't realise, I'm so sorry!" Draco just stared at her for a moment, puzzled.

"What?" He finally said.

"You look... well... You aren't..."

"_What? _Spit it out already!"

"You just..."

"WHAT?"

"Constipated! Happy?" She dissolved into laughter at Malfoy's horrified expression, forgetting her momentary annoyance.

Malfoy shook his head, slightly amazed. Epic fail, he thought irritatedly to himself. Still, she looked... happy. She wasn't acting like the Hermione he knew, she was acting more like she had on the train, in the carriage that time... For once she wasn't surrounded by a million textbooks, or dragged down by Weasel's temperamental mood... She was just laughing freely.

Who knew a shower could have that effect on one of the world's biggest tight-arses?

That night, he slept with a smile on his face: plan number two was a real winner.

**A/N ~ Can anyone guess the first song Hermione was singing? Shout-out/dedication if you can! I LOVE the band that sings it! :) Hope you enjoyed that! **

**If you feel like really making my day, review!**

**~Hayley xx**


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